How many times has the earth opened up under your feet and expelled hellacious demons and winged creatures screaming the cries of the eternally damned? Zero? Exactly. Will you go sleep in your own bed now?
Did you ever have one of those days where you just waltz into your boss’ office and say “Hey baldy, I’d like to let you in on a little secret…*whispering* you had me at…*sob*…expense report. *uncontrollable sobbing*” That’s an excerpt from my upcoming book “One way ticket to layoff-town: The fast track to poverty and homelessness.”
If Doctor Feelgood gave you a prescription for the “summertime blues”, would you tell him “I got the fever, and you got the cure! All this heroin makes my veins feel like tiny highways in hell! I would shake your hand, but I don’t know where mine are, and you look like a stone gargoyle with rainbow eyes! Great Balls of FIRE! Good Golly MISS MOLLY!” That’s not Doctor Feelgood, that’s your parole officer, and welcome back to rehab.
I can’t go to weddings anymore. I quickly find myself surrounded by 40 year old men all dancing like Fred “Rerun” Berry from What’s Happening. That’s enough to scare anyone into a coke habit.
When I hear people say “He really dances to the beat of a different drummer!” I think to myself “Why did God create so many retarded drummers?”
If four and twenty blackbirds were baked in a pie, would I have you arrested for animal cruelty right away, or let you continue your disgusting cooking habits?
If Mr. Clean grew his hair out and started panhandling down by Penn Station, would you call him “Mr. Filthy bum who needs to get a job”?
Will I ever be able to look at a park bench and not think about the time that I named one “Hazel” and tried to pass her off as my girlfriend? Will you ever stop bringing up the time Hazel and I showed up at the prom, and her dress was a little tight, and everyone called her Fatbench? She never got over that, thanks a lot.
If Mister Mister played a concert with Duran Duran, would the crowd puke from laughing so hard at all of the double-named bands playing on the bill, or would some jackass yell out “Freebird Freebird!” during the encore?
Will Tony ever wake up next to Lucy and think to himself “Lucy is an Italian whore’s name. Why in the world did I marry an Italian whore? Did I honestly think that she would give her heart to me and only me? Does she ever long to be back on the street, turning tricks and smoking Italian crack while eating meatballs? What have I done?” Relax Tony, Lucy is your dog. How many times do we have to go over this?
If you opened up a restaurant in Manhattan, would you call it “Craptastic Wonderburger Emporium of Country Fried Skullduggery and Yumtummery”? I would really appreciate it. That was my Grandmother’s dying wish.
If you wear a bowtie to your cousin’s wedding, and it suddenly starts spinning like a propeller during the ceremony, will you hurriedly try to stop it from spinning, or will you go with it and stand up in the church singing “Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gaaaaaaal!” while tap dancing? Good choice.
Blast From The Past!!!
3 years ago